


Smooth Like Chocolate

by Claire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-04
Updated: 2010-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's pretty sure he used to be smoother than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth Like Chocolate

Dean's pretty sure he used to be smoother than this. Pretty sure he used to be able to walk into a bar and have anyone and everyone smile and nod and answer the questions he asked. (He'd also normally walk out pleasantly buzzed from the drinks people had bought him and with at least half a dozen phone numbers in his back pocket.)

The last time they'd done this, he and Sam had been in and out of the place in under an hour, questions asked and witnesses interviewed and everyone agreeing that, yes, it had been kinda weird when the barman had spontaneously combusted when mixing the Martinis. The last time they'd done this, it had been easy.

Of course, the last time they'd done this Cas hadn't been with them. Which meant that Dean hadn't spent most of the time ignoring the people he was speaking to because he kept getting distracted by the guy standing next to his angel. The guy standing _way too fucking close_ to his angel. The guy who was laughing at what Cas was saying, and reaching out to touch Cas's arm and nodding towards the exit like he assumed Cas was just going to leave with him, and _fuck this shit--_

Standing up, he ignores the "Dean?" from Sam, who'd been telling him some shit or other about cold spots in the restrooms. But really, he could care less about cold spots and the guys' toilets and the fact that Sam thinks they've missed the demon but may have found a poltergeist. He could care less about all that crap because all he can see is some guy who's dared to put his goddamn hands on Dean's angel.

It only takes him a few seconds to get to the bar, only takes him a few seconds to be standing next to Cas, glowering at the guy until he moves his hand off Cas's arm.

"Dean?" Cas sounds like he doesn't know why Dean is there, doesn't know why Dean's hand is in the small of his back and his new-found friend is shrinking back from Dean's gaze.

Dean doesn't stop to explain, just fists his hands in Cas's trench coat and pulls him in, lips pressing against lips and his tongue flicking against Cas's mouth until Cas lets him in.

It takes long moments for Dean to pull back, resting his forehead against Cas's, his hands still bunched in Cas's coat. Long moments before he moves, smirking at the guy still standing next to Cas, even if he's not touching him anymore. "Better luck next time," he says, not meaning it at all.

Finally letting go of Cas's coat, Dean grabs his hand. "Let's go--" Because they need to be out of there. Out of there and back at the motel where Dean can bury himself so far inside of Cas, the angel'll be feeling him for a week.

And his fingers tightening around Dean's, Cas nods; nods and follows Dean and doesn't glance back.


End file.
